


Pull You Back

by Escalus



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s03e11 Alpha Pact, Episode: s03e12 Lunar Ellipse, Episode: s03e14 More Bad Than Good, Episode: s03e19 Letharia Vulpina, F/M, Future Fic, M/M, Neglect, Past Abuse, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Episode: s03e24 The Divine Move
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-04 18:40:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15847083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Escalus/pseuds/Escalus
Summary: From the outside, the interactions between Stiles Stilinski and Isaac Lahey seemed to range from being mildly annoyed with each other to hated rivalry.  But there is an old saying, familiarity breeds contempt.   This story examines what might have happened if Isaac had been Stiles' emotional tether during the ritual sacrifice.





	Pull You Back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maiNuoire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maiNuoire/gifts).



Deaton’s normally calm voice filled the room. It emphasized the danger of the situation while not inciting panic. “But it’s not just someone to hold you under; it’s also someone to pull you back. Someone with a strong connection, a sort of emotional tether.”

Immediately, Allison and Lydia moved toward each other and grasped hands. Their nervousness was obvious, and so was the relief that appeared on their faces.

Scott smiled at the girls, but his face fell as something occurred to him. He might have let this werewolf business get in the way of his grades last semester, but he could still do math as well as Stiles. He turned to his boss. “Uh. Stiles and I both have to go under.” 

“Isaac, you go with Stiles.”

“What?” Stiles felt like his eyes might bug out of his head. He laughed, disbelievingly, at the man. Isaac, too, had turned and looked at the druid, but he didn’t seem surprised by this at all. Scott, on the other hand, was looking at both of them and nodding in agreement.

“I think you’ve all finally lost it,” Stiles protested. “Isaac and I don’t have a strong connection. We can barely stand to be in the same room without sniping at each other. He might drown me on purpose.”

Scott sighed. “Stiles, it’s not that …”

Before Scott could finish or Deaton could even answer, Isaac stepped forward. “Can you guys give us a moment? We’ll be right back.”

Deaton glanced at the clock. “Don’t take too long.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you, Isaac.” Stiles crossed his arms, but Isaac took him by both shoulders and started dragging him out of the back room. He was a werewolf, and Stiles couldn’t really fight it. “Scott!”

Scott the Traitor gave him a hopeful smile. Stiles promised himself that this treachery would be remembered.

It was late at night and there was no street light in the filthy alley behind the clinic. Still, Stiles shivered – one of Jennifer’s sacrifices had been taken from this very location. Kyle, the first warrior. 

“Why’d you drag me out here? What do you think you’re going to get out of it?” Stiles demanded.

“Do you remember when your mother died?” Isaac’s voice was soft but firm.

“We don’t have time for this, Isaac.” Stiles turned away and headed back toward the door, but Isaac was faster and beat him to it. 

“Get out of my way.” Stiles tried to push Isaac, but he didn’t move. Isaac had flexed his werewolf strength, and it was very, _very_ annoying.

“Only after you answer my question.”

Stiles clenched his hands into fists.

“Stiles, you’re about to get into a dog bath, and either I or Dr. Deaton will drown you. Considering what we talk about here might determine if you survive or not, you should answer the question. Unless you really don’t want to save your dad.”

Stiles’ eyes grew wide and he licked his lips in anger. Finally, though, the need to get on with it won out. “Yes, I remember.”

“How did your dad take it?”

“He was just fine.” 

“That’s a lie.”

“I said, damn it, he was just fine.” It was a lie. It was a complete lie, but Isaac didn’t need to know that. Too many people knew it already. 

“Lie.” Isaac looked at him reproachfully.

Stiles’ vision got a little red around the edges. “He drank a little and worked a lot, but he was … grieving.”

“My father started …”

“My dad’s not your dad!” Stiles spat, furious.

Isaac was taken aback, and when he started talking again, he did it slowly and cautiously. “No, he’s not, but my dad, in the end, wasn’t _my dad_ either. When my mother died in a car wreck, he changed, and it wasn’t bad at first. He was afraid something was going to happen to Camden or me. He stopped letting us do almost anything, because we could be hurt. The trouble was that we were kids, so we did stuff and he got angry for it. And disappointed. It made things so bad that Camden couldn’t wait to get out of the house, and he joined the military. After he died … it stopped being about protecting me and started being about controlling me.”

“That’s a wonderful little story, Isaac, but I’m not sure why we’re talking about this.”

“Because I know how it feels to lose family. I know how it feels to lose both of your parents. I do.” Isaac reached out a hand and Stiles stepped back.

“It doesn’t seem like it connects us.”

“Why would you say that?” 

“Because while I was trying to stop people from being killed, you decided to go for the werewolf upgrade. You beat me up, don’t you remember? I sure do.”

Stiles thought that he had successfully proven his point, but then Isaac flashed his golden eyes at him. “Yeah. I wanted to feel like I was strong enough to be in control. I wanted to feel powerful; I didn’t want to be afraid. You’ve never felt afraid?”

Stiles gulped, and it sickened him that Isaac had to have seen it after the big game. 

“You never lied to your father about your life for the last …”

“Okay!” Stiles didn’t shout. Well, he almost shouted, and that’s not the same thing as shouting. “So we’re fucked up.”

“Yes. We’re fucked up, but we’re fucked up in the same ways.” Isaac’s eyes returned to normal. “You want your dad back. I want my dad back, but I can’t get that. I can help you get yours. It’s close enough.”

“Is it?”

“And we both want to be Scott’s best friend.”

“I am Scott’s best friend! I’ve been his best friend for years. And I didn’t have to move into his house or have a mystic power bond to be it. Why do you even want to be his friend?”

“Because just like you, I want to spend time with someone who looks at me and sees someone … they want to spend time with. You know exactly what I’m talking about. Someone who doesn’t look at you like you’re annoying or weird or broken. Don’t you?”

Stiles bit his lower lip. He didn’t say anything at first. It’s not something you talked about.

“Don’t you?”

“You know I do.” It was a difficult admission.

“So yeah, we may not like each other, but we understand each other. So, unless you’ve been spending huge amounts of time on covert lessons with Deaton, it’s going to have to work. Unless you’d rather die.”

“That’s not my plan.”

“That’s not my plan, either. They’re waiting on us.”

******

Stiles had dropped down into the root cellar without thinking. He was dizzy, but that sick feeling passed when he had the slightest inkling that his father was in danger. The bat was able to hold up the mostly intact cross beam, but it was the only beam left. It had been a close call.

Once he and his father had stopped hugging he looked around to quickly take in the environment. The whole cellar had destabilized. By all accounts, everyone should have been buried under tons of dirt and debris. 

“Why hasn’t this place collapsed?”

“Isaac held it up for as long as he could.” The sheriff nodded to the other werewolf, who was looking exhausted. 

“The whole cellar?” Stiles blinked. He offered Isaac a smile. 

“Piece of cake,” Isaac choked back.

Allison gave Isaac a hug, and something ugly shifted in Stiles’ chest. He had no idea what it meant. He pushed it to some weird locked off part of his mind to deal with later. “How are we going to get out of here?”

Chris Argent had been studying that very problem. “The walls are too unstable to climb. It could still bury us. Can anyone get a signal?”

Stiles gave Scott a call. He and Derek were apparently alright and promised to come get them once they could find a ladder. Allison had contacted Lydia, who told them that her, Cora, and Deaton had managed to save the twins but Kali was most definitely dead. It looked like the fighting was over at least. 

Stiles took a breath. It felt like his first breath since Jennifer had taken his father. 

While they waited for Scott and Derek, Allison and her father went off into a corner to talk, while his father and Melissa tried to clean the dead leaves out of her hair. Isaac was leaning up against the most stable wall in the cellar. He had his knees pulled up to his chest and was looking at his feet.

“Hey, Isaac.”

“Hey. Man, I’m tired.”

“You’re probably not used to that anymore.”

“I can get tired, it’s just not often.”

Stiles lowered his voice, but he wasn’t sure why he was doing it. What he was going to say wasn’t something bad, but he didn’t want anyone else to hear it. “Well, dude … thanks.”

Isaac looked up at him. Stiles never realized that his eyes, his human eyes, were _that_ blue. 

“You saved my dad.” 

“You would have done the same thing if you were in my position. Don’t worry about it.”

“But I couldn’t. You did. You didn’t have to …”

“Sure, I did.” Isaac shrugged.

Stiles stared at him. “Well, if you say so. Way to get in the way of me trying to compliment you, ya douche.”

“Now, there’s the Stiles Stilinski I know and love.”

His pulse jumped, but Stiles didn’t know why. He turned away and should have muttered some things that Isaac’s super hearing could have easily picked up on. But he didn’t. He just smiled.

******

Stiles burst into Scott’s room at full volume. “You just can’t do that!”

Scott did not give his outburst the attention it required. He didn’t even look up from his math homework. “Okay. What can’t I do?”

“You threw Isaac into a wall. Twice.”

Scott sighed, rubbed his face, and closed the book in front of him. “Yeah. I was pretty angry.” He turned around and opened his mouth but Stiles didn’t let him start talking. He really wasn’t interested in how Scott decided to defend himself.

“You know better than that,” Stiles scolded. “You know that you have a lot more power now and you can’t use that power against other people when it suits you. I thought you were better than Deucalion and Derek.” 

Scott sat there, staring at him. Stiles watched his friend’s face set into thin lines and angles, and Stiles began to suspect that he had gone too far. 

“You think I’m like them?” Scott’s voice was low and dangerous. Stiles was reminded that Scott was having trouble with uncontrollable transformations. He had lost his anchor and there was the whole business with the open doors and hearts of darkness.

“Okay, so I exaggerated a little bit, but taking out their disappointments on other people is exactly where they started from.”

“So that’s what I did?”

“Your mom told me you tossed him out of your room, twice. You can’t hurt people just because you’re angry.”

His words didn’t mollify Scott. “But you can.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Duct tape. Lacrosse balls. My crotch. Some senior’s truck. Remember?”

“That was a long time ago.”

“It was in January. This January.” 

Stiles folded his arms over his chest. He never thought that Scott would learn how to control a conversation by changing the subject. That was _his_ trick.

“You were angry because your father got hurt and you took it out on me. I understood that, I understand it, but that means I get to be angry, too.”

There was a split second where Stiles didn’t want to press it any further, but something told him he had to. Scott would listen to him. “Why were you angry? Allison doesn’t belong to you.”

Scott snorted in derision. “I’m no more possessive of Allison than you are of Lydia. If I was creepy, I would have beat the shit out of that sophomore, Nathan Pierce, who asked her out to the movies right in front of me last week. But I didn’t, because I’m not like that and neither are you.”

“But you’ll hit Isaac because of her.”

“Isaac is my friend, and he moved into our house, into our spare bedroom, and he eats our food, and my mom treats him like another son. And almost the first thing he does is try to get with the girl that I’m still not over.”

Stiles opened his mouth to say something, but Scott talked right over him. He was getting emotional.

“I didn’t say anything to him, to either of them. I told myself that it’s not my place to tell either of them who they can date and who they can’t date. And I’m good, I’m so good, even though it’s tearing me up inside, but then he comes into my bedroom and dares me to hit him. And when that didn’t work, he told me how much he wanted to kiss her. So yeah, I threw him up against the wall. Twice. I was angry.”

“Scott, Isaac asked you to hit him because that’s … it was his way of dealing with the tension between you two. He makes it his fault, and that makes it easier. But it’s not something that you, as an authority figure, should indulge in.”

Scott bit his lip. “As an authority figure.”

“Yeah. You’re the alpha.”

“So. Great. I’m not allowed to be angry anymore.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I’m saying. He … think of it like a pre-existing condition. What happened to him means you have to treat him a certain way.”

“Well, Stiles, I have a pre-existing condition too – it’s called lycanthropy. Maybe you’ve heard of it? It means I’m more aggressive than normal people. You think I was just waiting to hit him? I wasn’t!”

“He’s not going to get any better if you start acting like his dad.” Stiles immediately bit his tongue. Those were not the right words to say.

“I didn’t act like his dad! I’m not his dad!” At those words, Scott’s eyes flashed red and his claws began to sprout, just like earlier in the classroom. He began to gouge lines in his desk. Stiles came over and put his hands on Scott’s shoulders. It took them a few minutes to overcome the transformation. By the time they got it under control, Scott looked so tired that Stiles excused himself to go home.

Stiles slid in the car seat only to nearly jump out of his skin when Isaac opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. 

The beta turned his stare on Stiles. “Drive.” It was a command.

Stiles did as he was told. He had been planning to go straight home, so that’s where he drove, pulling up into the parking lot of his house.

Suddenly, Isaac poked him. It was one finger, but it was hard, and he spoke while doing it. “Don’t.” Poke. “Do.” Poke. “That.” Poke. “Again.” Poke.

“Ouch! What the hell, man! You’re going to leave bruises!”

“Don’t ever try to get between me and my alpha again.”

Stiles was flabbergasted. “You … you heard our conversation?”

Isaac pointed violently at his ears. “Don’t for one second think that I don’t know what you were trying to do.” 

“Uh. I was talking to Scott about …” 

The beta was still furious. “I don’t get you, Stiles. Are you that immature that you’re threatened by me being friends with Scott? Are you that much of a child that you pull stupid shit like this?”

Stiles looked around the jeep. He didn’t quite understand what was going on. Maybe someone was playing a trick on him. “I’m not threatened by you being friends with Scott.” 

“Sure. That’s why you’re trying to get him to stop being friends with me. You’re acting like you’re afraid I’m trying to replace you.”

“I’m not doing that!” Stiles’ voice went up an octave. Isaac sounded completely sincere. But that wasn’t what Stiles wanted. Not at all. “I know you’re not replacing me. I’d be stupid to think that. I know that Scott has more responsibilities now too, more than just me. I just don’t want him to throw you into walls, because you don’t deserve to be thrown into walls.”

“I don’t?” Isaac was staring at him. 

“No. You don’t.” 

The suspicion was back. “Why don’t I deserve to be thrown into walls? Didn’t I do something wrong?”

Stiles stared at him, but he was really trying to put things into words without coming out and saying _your dad beat the shit out of you_. “You know why.”

“Uh-huh. Like you care about that.”

“I do care!”

“Sure you do, Mr. Are-You-Still-Milking-That.”

Stiles bit his tongue. “I didn’t mean that. That was just me … being me.” 

Isaac was studying him with some sort of strange look on his face. “You mean that. You really mean that.” He turned away, looking out the window at the dark. “You know, my father used to tell me I was making a big deal out of nothing all the time. That if I didn’t want to go downstairs, I should do what I was told and stop trying to wiggle out of it.”

Stiles opened his mouth and then closed it. He really hadn’t meant to be cruel.

“So, if you want to get on Scott’s ass for throwing me around, then you should just be quiet, because you aren’t any better.” Isaac took a deep breath. “I like Scott. I like Scott a lot. And one of the reasons I do is because he cares for me without treating me like I’m broken, because I’m _not_ broken. When things were at their most fucked up during the alpha pack, do you know what he did? He sent me to make sure Allison was okay. You don’t send a damaged pawn to protect the person that means the most to you.”

“I was just …” Stiles clenched and unclenched his hands. “Acknowledging what you’ve been through isn’t the same thing as thinking you’re broken. Making sure Scott remembers that doesn’t mean I think any less of you.”

“But it does.” Isaac said sourly. “Do you think I took the Bite because I wanted to be poor widdle Isaac? I took the Bite to be strong, and I am strong. You know how much getting tossed into the wall hurt me? Not at all.”

“Just because you’re tougher than you used to be doesn’t mean it’s right.”

“Yeah. You’re absolutely right. When and if Scott goes too far, which he won’t because he’s not like that and you know it, I’ll handle it.” Isaac got out of the jeep.

“I can drive you home.”

“I want to walk.”

“Isaac … “

Isaac shook his head. “Look. I’m sorry I thought that this was some sort of way to separate Scott and me. I just thought … I thought you didn’t like me that much.”

Stiles tapped his fingers on the door of the jeep. He could have said something, but he didn’t.

“I appreciate you looking out for me, Stiles.” With that, he sprinted away into the darkness.

******

Stiles, Lydia, and Isaac were standing in the parking lot of the animal clinic. Scott was finishing up a few things with Deaton before they left to meet with the twins. Lydia had driven here to meet them; she had contacted Aiden and they had promised to meet them at Derek’s loft. Isaac was supposed to take the horse tranquilizer to Allison, but he hadn’t left yet.

Lydia was fixing her eyeshadow with her compact mirror. “Do stop fidgeting, Isaac. Your boyfriend will be out momentarily.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

Stiles didn’t say anything about it because he wasn’t going to leap to Isaac’s defense after the talk a few days ago. He also really liked where he was with Lydia right now.

“As you say.” Lydia smirked. 

Isaac scowled at her so fiercely that Stiles thought he was going to pop claws.

“What?” Lydia always gave as well as she got.

“This is a terrible idea.”

“No, it’s not. Scott needs advice from an alpha, and it’s something Deaton doesn’t know. We happen to know two perfectly good former alphas who owe our pack a lot.”

“Two perfectly good killers. Did everyone but me forget that they murdered Erica and Boyd.” Isaac growled a little.

Stiles was going to intervene but Lydia silenced him with the palm of her hand. “I didn’t forget.” She walked over to Isaac, completely unafraid. “So what do you think we should do instead? Hmmm. You obviously have a plan.”

“We shouldn't be going to them. We shouldn’t trust them.” Isaac started off strong, but his confidence kind of faded away as Lydia stalked toward him. Stiles knew that feeling.

“Because they’re killers, right? But, you, Isaac, you’re a killer, too.”

“I’m … not.”

“Oh, that’s right, Scott, Stiles and Allison stopped you from killing me, didn’t they? But you gave it the good old college try, didn’t you? So, that means we shouldn’t trust you, right? We shouldn’t rely on you?”

Isaac frowned, but he didn’t have much to say on that. He looked actually quite miserable and Stiles couldn’t’ take it anymore.

“The situation was different! They were acting on Derek’s orders!” 

Lydia huffed and tossed her head. “Aiden and Ethan were acting on Deucalion’s and Kali’s. It’s all very well to be able to determine history once you’re on the winning side.” She softened. “Trust me, Isaac. I know what Aiden and his brother are like, and I’m not ignorant of what they did. But our alpha prefers to turn enemies into allies, and I can see the logic of that. You should try it.”

Isaac folded into himself. “Scott can’t transform. You and Stiles don’t know how to fight. They … they could hurt all three of you.”

“They could.” Lydia agreed pleasantly.

“Isaac was just worrying about us,” Stiles put in. “But we can handle it.”

Isaac laughed. “What are you going to do, defend yourself with sarcasm?”

Stiles cocked his head angrily. “I’ll have you know …”

Lydia suddenly put a hand on Stiles’ arm. “Stiles can take care of himself.”

Isaac blew a raspberry and turned away. Stiles’ fist clenched, but then Lydia winked at him. She winked. 

“And, anyways, I'm going with them. Do you really think that my powers would suddenly fail if we were walking into a death trap? Do you?”

“No.” Isaac admitted grudgingly. “I’m going to go get these horse drugs to Allison.”

Isaac had borrowed Melissa’s car and the pair of them watched him drive away.

“Now, that’s interesting.” Lydia hummed in agreement to herself. “How long has that been happening?”

“What’s interesting?”

“Stiles? Are you serious right now?” The banshee studied him. “Oh, God, you are.”

“What are you talking about?”

Lydia was still laughing when Scott came out of the veterinary clinic.

******

Stiles watched Allison and Scott leave Isaac’s room. Scott’s face was creased with worry and with the slight twinges that accompanied the act of drawing pain from someone. Allison’s face was a mask, but Stiles, from his hidden vantage point, could see the wheels turning behind her eyes. She was considering strategies.

Only it really wasn’t Stiles who was watching.

“We’re going to have to keep an eye on her,” they muttered to themselves.

When Scott was far enough away not to be able to smell or hear him, Stiles moved down the hospital corridor, stopping outside of Isaac’s room. With a gentle touch, they over-rode the key card system. 

“What an ugly room. If this is the last place he’ll ever be, don’t you think they would have made it a little nicer? Some flowers? Maybe a window?” They smiled.

Within, like a bird trapped in a cage, a tiny heart beat against its own ribs. 

“You might be wondering what we’re doing here, Stiles. After all, you already know our plans to turn your best friend into tonight’s full course meal. And that’s the problem. You’ve been fighting us. As much as what we offer turns you on, you’ve been resisting our plan. You’ve been ineffective, but we’ve always been cautious. We'd rather not have to worry about giving you an opening.”

Stiles ran a finger down the arm where the IV had been stuck into Isaac. It came to rest on that tube, and Stiles gave it a little squeeze.

“It’s not much fun when they’re unconscious like this. Not good eating.” Stiles chuckled grimly. “But we wanted to demonstrate a simple fact to you. We could kill him as easily as we ate breakfast this morning.”

Stiles gave the tube another little squeeze. The pressure wasn’t much but Isaac still reacted to it, groaning and turning on the bed. 

“We want to propose something to you, Stiles. A simple exchange. You stop fighting our plans for the True Alpha, and we’ll let Isaac live for today. We did say one-by-one, but we didn’t say in what order.”

The poor little pet shrieked where no one could hear it.

“It’s absolutely fair. Think of it as a bet. If you choose to spare Isaac’s life right now and stop fighting us, you’re betting on Scott’s ability to beat us. Don’t you think your alpha could beat us? Or has your faith in him completely vanished?”

There was hardly a flutter.

“And you’ve come to care for Isaac, haven’t you? Oh, we know. It’s strange, isn’t it, how you try to tell yourself that you’re a horrible monster, but in the end you have a soft spot for the weak.” Stiles glanced at one of the monitors; they could barely make out their reflection on there. “Though now you are a horrible monster. _Irony_.” 

The one within shouted something.

“Not weak? What a change from just a few weeks ago. You’re really gone on this boy, aren’t you? If you’re not careful, people will say we’re in love.” The nogitsune picked up one of Isaac’s pillows. “Make your choice. Have faith that Scott is every bit the hero you think he is, or I’ll smother the life out of Isaac.”

There was really only one choice. The nogitsune knew that when it started. Winning wasn’t the point. It was how much damage they could do along the way.

******

When Mr. Argent and Isaac reached the parking lot on their way to the airport, Stiles was leaning up against Mr. Argent’s SUV. His palms were sweating even though it was cool inside. His lips were sweating, but that may have been because he had been compulsively wetting them with his tongue. He hoped he could keep his voice level.

“I was worried that I wasn’t going to know which one was yours but it’s the biggest, most expensive, gas-guzzlingest Mom Wagon in the garage, so it just had to be yours. Why do hunters like these things?”

“Easier to hide the big guns.” Argent’s voice was cool. “Hello, Stiles.”

Isaac didn’t say anything, and Stiles looked anywhere but at him. Not only because he needed to talk to Isaac and he didn’t know what he was going to say, but also because he had immediately seen the wooden triskele box in his hands.

Stiles found his tongue clinging to the roof of his mouth. 

“Was there something you wanted, Stiles?” Argent’s voice was clear and not hostile at all.

“Yeah, but … but could we put that …” Stiles pushed one hand out in the general direction of Isaac. 

Argent took the box from Isaac. “We can’t wait too long, Isaac. Say your goodbyes.” He walked to the car and opened up the driver’s side door. 

Stiles forced the words out, though he still couldn’t look at the box. “I have to talk to you, Mr. Argent.”

“No, you don’t.” Chris didn’t smile, but his words held conviction. “The Code was kept.” He got into the SUV, started it, and started playing music.

Stiles shuffled up to Isaac. Isaac didn’t flinch away but he didn’t say anything either. Eye contact had not been made. This was so awkward. It was plausible that Chris wouldn’t blame Stiles for Allison’s death, because he was used to death. It had been with him his whole life. But Isaac was different; while he had suffered death, the boy had never gotten used to it. Just like Stiles. 

They didn’t have forever, so Stiles had to be the brave one. Stiles was brave, he knew, but not when there were sticky, messy things like feelings on the line. He had always avoided them, and he wanted to avoid them even now. But he couldn’t. 

“Don’t leave.”

Whatever Isaac had been expecting Stiles to say, that had not been it. His jaw dropped.

“Don’t leave. You don’t have to go.”

Isaac’s voice was heavy. “Yes, I do.”

“Scott needs you.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Yes, he does, no matter how mad you are at him, he needs at least three betas.”

“I’m not …” Isaac swallowed. “I’m not mad at him. That’s not why I’m leaving. And he has you, Kira, and Lydia.”

“None of us are actually his betas because none of us are actually werewolves. And if he doesn’t need you to keep him stable, how do you think he’s going to feel when you leave? He … he cares about you. A lot. You said it yourself.”

“I know he does, and I care about him, too. You think I don’t know what I’m doing? I took Allison from him and then I … failed both of them. Now, I’m running away. I know I’m hurting him, but that’s not enough for me to stay.”

“Then stay for me.” Stiles let it out. 

“What?”

“Stay for me. I want you to stay. I need you to stay.” Stiles wasn’t lying; all the werewolf senses would tell he wasn’t lying. But still, Isaac looked disbelieving.

 _Tell him, you idiot,_ Stiles screamed at himself. _Tell him that you like him, that you like when he’s around, that you like fighting with him. Tell him that you can barely bring yourself to look at Scott, that you think you’ll never be comfortable with Scott again, and you need someone to be comfortable with. Tell him that you need someone with whom you don’t have to watch what you say or pretend you’re fine, because if you say what you really feel to anyone else they’d blame themselves. Tell him that you know he wouldn’t blame himself, at all. He’d tell me I was an asshole and a fool, but he’d still hang around._

But Stiles didn’t. 

Isaac shook his head. “I’m sorry, Stiles.”

******

Stiles took to writing Isaac letters.

There were normal letters, talking about school and movies and lacrosse. 

There were not-so-normal letters, talking about Malia, and the Dead Pool, and Theo, and the Ghost Riders.

Some of the letters were so short and shallow that he imagined Isaac laughing at him. “You spent all this money on postage for that? Come on, Stiles!”

Some of the letters were long and sad. Stiles talked about how he felt the gulf opening beneath his feet. How every time Scott triumphed over some villain, Stiles felt more and more like a fraud. He wrote about wanting to run away and start over again somewhere else, and then he wrote about how terrified he felt when everyone had forgotten him.

Stiles imagined, each time, Isaac saying something sarcastic to make him feel better. He imagined Isaac wondering if he should pick up the phone and call him. But he never did.

Because Stiles never sent the letters.

******

It can get cold in Washington D.C., and that could be surprising seeing how far south it was. But in February, the bitter winds can rattle windows and the sleet can make the sidewalks difficult. Stiles was back in school, pursuing his criminology degree and participating in the FBI intern program. It had been a near thing, and now he owed Rafael McCall even more favors.

He was sitting on his bed watching Netflix with the blanket wrapped around him. It was a good night; he was done with his homework, done with his work out, done with everything. He could sit and do … anything. This was the best.

So, of course, Stiles was amazingly put out when there was a knock on the door. He stalked over to it, but he wasn’t expecting visitors. Things were still tense out there. He snatched up a baseball bat and held it out of the way before opening it.

Isaac Lahey stood in the doorway. He wasn’t soaking wet, but he did have sleet in his hair. “Hey.”

Stiles dropped the bat to the floor. “Isaac!”

“May I come in?”

Stiles did not almost trip over himself letting Isaac into his room. “What are you doing here?”

Isaac’s brow crinkled up. “I came to see you. I … I hope that’s okay?”

“Sure!” Stiles smiled widely. “Sure. Have a seat. Want something to drink?”

They got comfortable. Stiles decided that he was going to be calm about this. So he was calm … he was … _absolutely_ … calm. They talked about France and what Isaac had been doing over there. They talked about Stiles and his training in the FBI. Time flew by, and it was nice. It was really nice, even though Stiles was so nervous he thought he was going to pass out.

“You can stay in the room, if you want. For some reason, my roommate asked to move, so I have a double to myself.” Stiles had been just a little talkative, but what had the guy expected? “I’m just surprised to see you.”

“So …” Isaac began. “Scott doesn’t want any member of the pack to be alone right now. Monroe’s on the run and she might get desperate.”

“Oh.” Stiles immediately tried to banish his disappointment from his face. Of course, Scott sent him here. He played it off with a smile. “Sorry you got stuck with me.”

“I volunteered to come here for you,” Isaac replied, looking him in the eyes.

“Uh.” Stiles was at a loss for words. “You … did?”

“Yeah. I wanted to see you. It’s been so long. I thought … well, I thought that if I had to get stuck with an annoying asshole, it might as well be my favorite annoying asshole.”

“Love you, too, buddy.” Stiles smiled for real. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow it down there. I haven’t even taken you on a date yet.”

“Yet?” Stiles blushed. “Maybe I don’t want to go on a date with you.” 

“You don’t?” 

Stiles made a great show of thinking it over. “I _guess_.”

“I’m so, so grateful for the opportunity.” Isaac exaggeratedly clasped his hands together in thanks.

“So the old fraud was right. It’s not just someone to hold you down …” 

Both of them laughed. It wouldn’t be the last time.


End file.
